One and all the eight girls were experiencing inward satisfaction at the summons to Miss Remson's office. Confident that it had to do with the readmittance or denial of the Sans to Wayland Hall, they were glad that the odd little manager had chosen to give them her confidence. "I'm going over to the garage to see if the new tire is on my car. It blew out yesterday while I was driving it to cover after I left you girls. I'll be back by the time you girls have finished breakfast. Going with me, Midget?" Leila turned to Vera. "No, Ireland," she declined, with the little rippling smile which was one of her chief charms. "I am still hungry. I want another cup of coffee and a nice fat cinnamon bun. By the time I put them away you will be back." As Leila went out, Helen Trent appeared, a slightly sleepy look in her blue eyes. Her arrival was greeted with acclamation. Aside from Vera and Leila, the long pleasant dining room was empty of students when the Lookouts and Katherine had entered it. In consequence, they were more free to laugh and talk. The presence of the Sans in the room during meals quenched the spirit of comradarie that was so marked at Silverton Hall. "Have you seen Miss Remson?" was hurled at Helen in chorus. She dimpled engagingly and nodded her head. "I saw her last night after I left you girls. I had to have a new bulb for one of my lights." "Glad of it." Jerry beamed at Helen. She had not wished her junior friend left out of Miss Remson's confidence. "If she had not told you, I was going to ask her if you might be in on it," she assured. "Faithful old Jeremiah." Helen reached over from where she had paused beside the Lookouts' table and patted Jerry on the shoulder. "One might think you were addressing a valued family watch dog," remarked Lucy Warner. Helen's dimples deepened. "You don't say much, Luciferous, but what you say is _amazin'_. I hadn't the slightest intention of ranking my respected pardner, Jeremiah, as an animal friend. With this apologetic explanation, I shall insist that you drop all such thoughts." "Oh, I did not say I thought so," calmly corrected Lucy. "I merely said, 'One might think.'" Lucy's features were purposely austere. Her greenish eyes were dancing. Long since her chums had discovered that her sense of humor was as keen as her sense of criticism. Leila presently returned to find the breakfasters feasting on hot, old-fashioned cinnamon buns. These buns were a specialty at Wayland Hall, and, with coffee, were a tempting meal in themselves. Another ten minutes, and they left the dining-room en masse, bound for the little manager's office, there to learn what they might or might not expect from the Sans during the coming college year. CHAPTER V. LETTER NUMBER TWO. "Come in!" called a brisk, familiar voice, as Ronny knocked lightly on the almost closed door. Filing decorously into the rather small office, the nine girls grouped themselves about the manager's chair.